


Anyone Else

by Indig0



Series: Someone Else [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor hates deviancy, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson Swears, Hank Anderson lives on the edge of the law, Hank and Connor fight, Hank hates machines, Hank wants to be friends with Connor, Jericho (Detroit: Become Human), Machine Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Okay more than slight, Slight Canon Divergence, a lot of shouting, implied suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-08 07:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indig0/pseuds/Indig0
Summary: As Connor shows himself to be more and more just a cold, unfeeling machine, Hank goes farther than he should to get his partner to wake up.Failing that, there are plenty of deviants out there who he'd rather be partnered with.(Save him, Robo-Jesus, you're my only hope)





	1. Desperate Times

The phone rang, and Hank jumped, though he’d been expecting it. His neck prickled as he watched Jimmy answer it after a few rings.

“Jimmy’s. Yeah.” He looked over at Hank. “…Yeah? Hold on.” He glared. “You expecting a call?”

“Y-uh… yeah. You mind?”

“You’ve got your own damn phone, Hank.” Jimmy shoved the phone at him. “Just – go in the back so nobody has to listen to your weird shit.”

“It ain’t –“

“I don’t wanna know.”

Hank ducked into the supply room in the back and put the rather greasy phone up to his rather greasy ear. “…Yeah?”

“Lieutenant Anderson. I hear you want to talk.”

“I – yeah, I… listen, I know you guys’re… kinda hiding out right now, but… can we meet somewhere?”

Someone muttered something in a hushed, angry voice on the other end of the line.

“That… wouldn’t be wise. For me. …Or for you. What can I help you with?”

Hank sighed slowly. “I need to know… how to get an android to deviate.”

Silence. Hurried whispering that Hank couldn’t make out.

“I’m sorry – are you not the Lieutenant Anderson working with the deviant-hunting android?”

“Can you tell me or not?” he growled.

“I – it’s rather individualized. It’s usually brought on by a strong emotional response.”

“Fucker’s killed more deviants than I know about, woulda thought that’d bring on a ‘strong emotional response,’” Hank griped. 

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

“You… want to turn the RK800 deviant.”

“You’re – I… I didn’t know where else to go.” Hank scrubbed a hand over his face.

Another long silence. “Lieutenant Anderson, I think we should meet, but it’s not going to be easy.”

“I figured.”

“There’s – hm. There’s an abandoned mall out on Riverview Drive.”

“I know the place.”

“Tomorrow night at ten? The food court?”

Hank let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I’ll be there.”

“Unarmed,” a sharp, feminine voice cut in. “And alone.”

“Y-yeah. Got it. I just – it’s gotta be done.”

 

Hank shifted from foot to foot in the dilapidated remains of the food court. He’d come here a lot as a teenager. Eaten at the Panda Express. Paid for a $5 movie early in the afternoon, then just moved from one theater to the next for the rest of the day. Nobody had noticed, or if they had, they hadn’t said anything. He’d emerge at the end to snag all the free tea samples from that hipster tea place on the second floor, then catch the bus home. Life was pretty good back then.

“Lieutenant Anderson.”

Shit, those androids moved quietly.

Hank looked up to see four androids leaning over the railing on the floor above, looking down at him. There were more behind them and on the floor above that, he was sure. Probably all around him.

There was a WR400 who looked like she might shoot him just because. Or leap over the railing and tear him apart. A PJ500 whose eyes were wide, and even at this distance Hank could see how tight he was gripping the rail. A PL600 – Hank could see the determination there, behind the fatigue and resignation. Did androids feel such complex things? …He wouldn’t know.

The last one wasn’t a model he recognized, with his different-colored eyes and intense gaze. The one who had spoken. Had to be Markus.

“I appreciate your willingness to meet like this,” Markus called down softly. “And I… apologize for the need.”

“I kinda figured it’d be this way.” Hank shrugged. “Uh… thanks for comin’ out here, I guess. Wasn’t sure how to get ahold of you.”

“So you decided to tape a message to a deviant android’s jacket.” Markus was smirking.

“Yeah, well… Not for nothing, but you’re hard to find.”

Markus inclined his head in acknowledgement. “…So tell us about your partner.”

Hank did.

 

_Find Jericho. Stop the deviants. Destroy the deviant leader. Shut down deviancy entirely._

_Connor’s mission, he was all about his fucking missions, and they amounted to the same thing: Stop androids from thinking for themselves. And the irony was completely fucking lost on him._

_It wasn’t like Hank hadn’t tried his damndest. And Connor seemed so human, it was easy to forget at first that he was just a machine. Sometimes. When they’d just been talking, not on a mission._

_But he was a real asshole when he was working. That charm and friendliness and caring obviously ran as deep as a fucking puddle. He’d been willing to let Hank fall to his death. Hadn’t even been sorry, and they’d lost the deviant anyway. Served Connor right._

_It was a shame, though. Hank hadn’t gotten much of a backstory on the android, but apparently he’d seen some shit and needed some space. Hank could respect that, even with all the damn pigeons all over everything._

_Even before that, though. That first android, the HK400 Connor asked to interrogate. Hank had been so impressed with how he handled it – pushing, but reasonable, gentle. When he demanded that no one touch the android, Hank’s heart had twisted, and it was enough to make him pull a gun on Gavin – shithead deserved it anyway. But Connor’s empathy, that consideration for someone else’s needs, that was a partner worth protecting. This android had been through a lot too, and the least he deserved was some fucking respect._

_It had all been about getting information, though, and Hank told himself he wouldn’t be fooled again._

_He honestly hadn’t thought too hard about things at the Eden Club. Connor was a machine, he didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about, even if he made Hank buy some time with a Traci. Then just left her with him. Thanks, partner._

_And he’d shot them. They were scared, running, and this time Connor didn’t try to convince anyone to calm down and talk about things. He just stood there and shot them. Two androids trying to get away. Two girls in love. That’s all they’d been._

_It made Hank sick to his stomach, and all the whiskey in the world couldn’t shake the feeling._

_Connor stared at him, at the bridge, when Hank was still feeling sick. Just a cold, unfeeling machine with warm brown eyes and a goofy face who broke through Hank’s window and petted Sumo._

_Hank felt nothing but cold and numb when he’d shot his partner in the head. The sick feeling quickly returned as he got up, but he ignored it and headed for… somewhere. Not here._

_He’d really gotten the short end of the stick when it came to partners. When it came to all the androids he could’ve gotten stuck with, sure Connor was the most advanced one, but he didn’t care. That was it, he didn’t care about one goddamn thin except his mission. No other… ambitions, interests… Definitely no damn feelings, not a single one. That was what really got to him. He could’ve been partnered with somebody who wanted something more from life. Somebody who could make attachments._

_At the moment, Hank would gladly trade Connor in for any of the androids he’d stopped. Too bad they were locked up at the station. Evidence, while Connor was treated as… well, almost an employee._

 

He hadn’t meant to say that much. Just the facts. But he’d got caught up in it, and now he had to drop his head and swipe his sleeve across his face.

“I’d heard you hated deviants, Lieutenant,” the PL600 said softly. “But you don’t, do you?”

“Androids,” Hank snapped, glaring up at him, feeling that exhaustion and resignation to whatever the hell was happening that he saw in the blue eyes. “I hate androids. They don’t think or feel or care about anything. Just doin’ their job, nothing matters.”

“You want it to matter.” The PJ500 spoke up for the first time.

“Well – fuck! Yeah, course I do!”

The androids above looked at each other, and Hank could see their LEDs blinking. Fucking android telepathy.

…Any of them would have made an easier partner to work with.

Markus, he was perceptive, understanding, reasonable, clearly intelligent enough… The blonde seemed worn down by life, but he was obviously performing vastly different tasks than the typical household model, and Hank had to admire his adaptability. The girl, she was ready to knock down anyone who stood in her way, she’d be an explosion at any crime scene, one with a sense of justice. The last one had been quiet, but he was a university lecturer model. He’d have the smarts to analyze situations, and a great knowledge base to draw on.

Not that something like that would ever be approved, but Hank couldn’t help wishing for it. A partner who was capable of feeling. Feeling anything.

“I… I could do it,” Markus said haltingly, startling Hank out of his reverie.

“Markus, he’s not just gonna let you do that!” the quiet one hissed.

“No, but I think I can convince him to let me get close.”

“If he kills you…” The WR400 trailed off, and glared daggers down at Hank. “…If your machine kills Markus, I will kill him, and then you.”

Hank looked up at her, her whole body taut with rage. “…Lady, if Connor kills him, I won’t even fight it. This is the last attempt. I got nothing else.”

“I’ll do my best,” Markus said softly. He hesitated, then leapt gracefully over the railing to land on his feet, and walked up to Hank, extending a hand. “I’ll do everything I can.”

…Yeah, he’d make a good partner. Hank felt his throat tighten as he clasped the deviant leader’s hand tightly and nodded.

He scribbled his phone number and address on an old receipt and gave them to the girl before he left. In case things went south. She avoided touching his fingers when she took it, but he could see that she was unsettled, even through her anger.

“Just make it quick if you have to pay me a visit,” he said gruffly.

She didn’t respond. He turned his back on the deviants and walked away, into the night.


	2. Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor head to Stratford Tower, and Hank takes matters into his own hands.  
> He doesn't know what he's doing, but dammit, he's gonna do it.

New day, new Connor, same old mission. He played with a quarter in the elevator of Stratford Tower until Hank grabbed it from him. It was almost like a nervous habit, and it was damn annoying.

The android who gave the speech had his skin turned off, but it was Markus, Hank could tell. Connor was being cagey about the details, but two could play at that game. Hank watched as he walked around, touching the walls, analyzing, tasting blue splatters on the wall.

Disgusting.

And it only got worse. He yelled at the three station androids, threatened them, even took the heart – not the heart, something like it, though – out of one. No response from any of them. Androids. Still, the sick feeling in Hank’s stomach grew. He followed Connor up to the roof, and the blast of cold air made him catch his breath.

“Made it up through the whole building, past all the guards, and jumped off the roof with parachutes.” Hank turned to Connor, searching for a reaction. Of course, there was none. “…Pretty fucking impressive, I’d say.” They seemed to have gotten away safely, and Hank couldn’t help but feel relieved.

Then he saw the bag, the parachute, and he knew.

One of them hadn’t made it out of the station. No – if they’d been killed inside, someone would’ve found them by now. So. One android, pretty badly injured, judging by the amount of blue blood around. Hadn’t died on the roof in plain sight, but might be hiding. Or jumped over the side. Or maybe did a tandem jump with one of the others. Hank tried to grasp onto that idea, but it wasn’t likely. Time to look around, then.

Of course, Connor got the same idea. Too damn smart for his own good.

It was important that he act natural. Just walk off ahead, away from Connor, he wasn’t doing anything strange, just looking around. Like a detective. Which he was. When Connor went to look over the edge of the building, Hank followed the faint traces of a single set of dragging footsteps being covered by snow, shuffling over them to obscure them further.

Blue blood. Hank glanced around – he’d have to be fast. He bent to pick up a handful of snow, rubbed it over the blue smear, and muttered. “You in there?”

There was just the faintest of sounds, like a small gasp of fear or pain. He couldn’t tell which one it was, but probably not the angry one.

“Don’t move, don’t make a sound. You get through this, meet me out back at 11 tonight.” He didn’t give the hidden android a chance to respond before turning and stalking away. Connor was turning back from the railing, heading towards him.

“Hey,” Hank huffed, brushing some snow from his hair. “These things are a bitch to open up, you wanna check the rest of ‘em so we can get outta this place?”

“You think the deviant may be hiding in one of them.” Connor nodded approvingly. “Did you already check that one?”

“Yeah, and I’ll probably have time for one more in the time it takes you to do the rest. Get going, I’m freezing my ass off over here,” Hank grumbled, moving to the next HVAC unit. As he worked it open, Connor moved on, and relief warred with anxiety. There was just one, wasn’t there? There wouldn’t be more hiding? There’d better not be.

Connor was frustrated as they returned to the DPD, and Fowler was pissed, but Hank couldn’t bring himself to care about either. Connor filed the report, and Reed bitched about androids not being worth the price of the plastic they were made from – true, in this case – and they went home. …Well, Hank did, and he assumed the others did. Connor went to the Cyberlife Tower. He’d asked once.

_“No shit? What, you got a room there?”_

_“I have a recharging station. It is more than adequate.”_

_“You… go into sleep mode or something?”_

_His lips had quirked up. “Something like that, Detective. I recalibrate and run diagnostics, and my self-repair function is far more effective while I am offline.”_

Just one drink when he got home, and a microwave burrito, and his nerves were on-edge. The deviant was hurt bad. Hank could pick up some thirium packets on the way. He had his toolbox that never got used, for as much good as it’d do. Something to cauterize a tear in the plastic would probably be useful, but without having a blowtorch on hand, Hank looked at his options. He could heat something up on the stove.

In the end he left earlier than he’d planned, and stopped by Walmart. He picked up a 24-pack of Thirium 310, and a little handheld blowtorch from the kitchen section. For crème brulee or some shit. And a little android first aid kit. And some extra plastic patches. Paid with cash. Hopefully that would be good enough. He went through the self-checkout and threw the bag on the passenger seat before heading to Stratford Tower. 10:45.

It would’ve been nice to be more specific. ‘Out back’ was a pretty loose description. Hank fidgeted and turned the music down as he sat in his car in an alley. He’d already scared off a few suspicious characters by flashing the headlights. He had his own mission tonight, he wasn’t here to bust drug dealers. Which he would have to do if he saw something going down.

11:03. He wondered if the android was coming. It wasn’t that late. Did he have some kind of internal clock? He’d have to. Either a teacher or a domestic assistant – they’d have to know what time it was, right? He’d give it until 11:15. Maybe he’d been caught. Maybe he’d shut down.

At 11:13 he heard the dragging footsteps, the stuttering breaths, a soft thump – there, coming around the corner of the building. The PL600, looking ready to drop. Hank got out quickly and opened the back door.

“You look like shit. Hurry up,” he growled. The android’s lips moved, but he didn’t seem up to saying much. Hank urged him into the back seat, where he sprawled, panting and seeping thirium all over.

“There’s a towel on the floor – put pressure on that so you don’t bleed out in my car,” the detective grumbled, quickly getting in again and starting up the car.

“W-where…”

“Gonna take you home, I guess. Can’t take you to Cyberlife. Don’t know where else to go, unless you wanna tell me how to get to Jericho – probably best if you didn’t,” he added hurriedly. “Just – fuck, I’ll do what I can, but no promises here, got it?”

“Thank you.” It was so soft he almost didn’t catch it over the stereo and the engine. “Thank you, I –“

“Shut up,” Hank advised him as he navigated through traffic. The deviant was quiet for the rest of the ride, and he looked like he was in some kind of low-power mode. The towel was slowly darkening with blue blood, and looked pretty saturated by the time they pulled into the driveway. Hank stuck his arm through the Walmart bag’s handles and went around to the back.

“Hey. You still… alive?” He wasn’t even sure if that was the right word for it.

The deviant moaned and tried weakly to sit up.

“Okay, gotta get you inside, at least,” Hank muttered. “Hope you don’t mind dogs.”

The android tried to help, but Hank had to basically carry him inside. Sumo woofed and snuffled at both of them curiously as Hank pushed past him. “C’mon, leave ‘im, Sumo.” He’d had the forethought to lay out some sheets on the couch, and he awkwardly dropped the android there, pushing and pulling him around to lie down with the injured leg closest to him.

“Okay, just – just hold on. Just don’t panic. Stay with me, okay? You’ve lost a lot of blood, so, so just calm down. Um. Here, drink this.” He ripped open the pack and handed the android a packet of thirium, which he almost was unable to take. His movements were weak and uncoordinated, and he grasped a few times before he got it.

“Okay, hold on, fuck,” Hank mumbled, grabbing the packet over the android’s hand and twisting off the cap. “There. Try not to spill it, I’ll kill you if you ruin my couch.” The PL600’s hand wavered so much that Hank sighed heavily and guided it up to his mouth, where he gulped it down, a small trickle running from the corner of his mouth. He flopped back when he’d finished it, panting, but his eyes looked a little more focused.

“You’re gonna need more of that, but I’m gonna try to fix that leg of yours first. You’re gonna need to hold still. Got it?”

He simulated a swallow, and nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered again.

“I said shut up.” Hank glared at him. “You got a name, or just PL600?”

“Simon,” the android breathed. “I’m Simon.”

“Great. Don’t move.” Hank turned on all the lights, drew the blinds, and pulled a chair in from the kitchen. “Now I’m gonna warn you, I’ve never done this before, so if I’m not doin’ it right, you’ve gotta let me know what to do.”

Simon nodded, and watched as Hank cut off the ruined pant leg and wiped off the thirium. 

“I, uh… I’ve got some training in first aid and first responder shit. And I… took an auto shop elective in school.” That had been ages ago. He frowned and took stock of the situation. Lots of ripped up plastic and metal. Definitely at least one damaged vessel where thirium continued to leak out. “…Point is, I dunno if I can fix this.”

“I… have an internal repair system,” Simon hissed through clenched teeth. “If you’re able to stabilize the major damage, I can do the rest. Over time.”

“Well… yeah, I’ll try.” Hank took one of the plastic patches and laid it carefully over the damaged vessel. “Can you – oh. Good.” The thirium had stopped flowing, and Simon’s face looked pained.

“I can stop it for a minute or so. Please, hurry.”

“Got it.” Hank turned on the blowtorch and adjusted the flame, then very carefully heated the edges to meld the plastics together. Then he put another layer over that. “Okay, give that a try.”

Thirium flowed again beneath the plastic as Simon’s head dropped, and Hank watched for a few seconds. Fixed a small leak. “Looks like it’ll hold. Not bleeding out anywhere else, are you?”

Simon shook his head.

Hank’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank fuckin’ God. Get yourself some more blood, then.” He shoved the pack closer so Simon could reach, and started to work on pulling the jagged edges of plastic together. The android was still weak, but he was able to pull out another packet and remove the cap himself. He drank ten of them before wilting back down to the couch. He still looked worn out, but his color was a little better.

“If… if you pull on the medial aspect – the left – I think it may come together better.”

Hank’s frown deepened and he did so. It worked. “Huh. …How much pain can you feel?”

“Quite a lot.”

Hank glanced up, brow furrowed. “Sorry.”

“I – Lieutenant Anderson, you have… nothing to apologize for. I owe you my life.” 

“I didn’t – I’m not… shut up, I told you to shut up,” Hank groused, waving Simon off irritably. “You – I already owed you fuckers, you can bet I wouldn’t’ve done it if you weren’t doin’ me a favor. I made a deal with all of you, not just Markus.”

Simon glanced down, but he was smiling softly. “I understand.”

“You’d better.”

“…I hope you get a chance to talk with North in the future. I think you’d get along well, despite her distrust of humans.”

“That the angry girl? Yeah, probably.” Hank was quiet for a while. “Who’s the fourth one? Tall, real quiet, looked kinda scared.”

“Josh.” Simon looked aside. “We’ve all seen some hard times, Lieutenant.”

Hank let out a long, aggrieved sigh. “I’m not at work. Pretty much the opposite, I’ll be in jail if I’m caught helping you. Better stick to calling me Hank.”

“Hank,” Simon repeated softly with a nod. “I – I’ll leave as soon as I’m able to, I don’t want to make trouble for you.”

“How long’s your repair shit gonna take?”

The android winced. “…10.23 hours, at minimum. The damage is fairly severe, and… I’m an older model.”

“Yeah, that’d put it right in the middle of the day. Good luck gettin’ back to Jericho without anybody seein’.”

“I – I’m a common household model, I have no trouble blending in!” Simon protested.

“Mm-hm, a common household model in different clothes who looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in a few years and probably hasn’t slept in that long either.”

Connor would have pointed out that androids don’t sleep, which Hank was well aware of. Simon quickly looked down. “I’ve had… a decreased ability to perform maintenance since I deviated. And… really, no reason to.”

Hank sat back, wiping his hands off. “Didn’t much feel like it either?” he asked quietly.

The PL600 looked up again quickly, a bit of color rising to his cheeks and sputtered before Hank cut him off.

“Guess I’ve been the same way since…” he grimaced and tried not to look at the photo facedown on the table, and failed. “…for a while.”

Simon was silent, probably analyzing him. Fuckin’ androids. Hank rubbed his eyes. They both needed some rest.

“Stay inside until tomorrow night. Sleep – whatever, fix yourself. I’ll be at work all day. When you’re up to it… I can’t help out with the uniform, but get a shower, do… do whatever you need to do. Just stay inside, don’t let anybody see you. Then get back where you need to be when it’s safe. Got it?”

The android gave a halting nod, then a quicker one. His eyes looked overbright. Time to end this conversation. Hank stood, groaning as his joints popped.

“Good. Now you may not sleep, but I try to when I can. Goodnight.” He stomped off to his bedroom, turning off the lights on the way, and barely heard the faint answering “Goodnight” before he slammed the door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't decided how far/where I'm taking this yet. Will Connor deviate in the end? Will Hank survive?  
> I'm still not sure.


	3. The Trolley Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor visit Elijah Kamski, and things suddenly turn around.
> 
> Then there's a whole lot of shouting.

The next morning, Simon was fast asleep when Hank dragged himself out of bed. His LED was flickering between blue and yellow – androids didn’t dream, Hank was positive. Did deviants, though? He was… snoring a little, too. Huh. Fucked up. Well, he needed the rest. The leg was looking better, and he looked at peace in his sleep. Hank took Sumo out briefly, then fed the dog before slipping out the door and locking it behind him.

If the previous days had been awful, this day was going to be infinitely worse.

He reluctantly took Connor to go see Elijah Kamski, hoping for a lead on Jericho, or rA9. You’d think the androids’ creator wouldn’t create them with the possibility to deviate.

You’d think that.

“I don’t trust this creep,” Hank growled as they pulled up to the estate.

“He is known for being eccentric, certainly, but what makes you not trust him?” Connor asked, that interested tone overlaying his cool nature.

Hank frowned as he parked the car, then shifted to face Connor. “Okay, he’s this super-genius who invented… you. Wrote every line of your code, everything. Not to mention the millions of other androids out there. Why would he even allow for the possibility of deviancy?”

Connor’s LED spun yellow for a moment. “I don’t think it was his fault, Lieutenant. As intelligent as he is, no computer is completely immune to a virus. And historically speaking, androids have existed for quite a long time without contracting anything catastrophic.”

“Yeah, but… what a thing to catch, right? Feelings?” Hank’s eyes searched Connor’s.

“I suppose. But they can be reset and repaired. Just like a human with the flu, there is a recovery process, but afterwards the android will be fully functional again.”

“And you’re really okay with just… destroying people – deviants like that?”

“We are not people, Lieutenant. They are not people. We are all built to closely mimic humanity, but it’s important to remember that we are not alive.” Now Connor seemed to be searching for something in Hank. “You know that, don’t you, Detective?”

“…Every time I fucking look at you,” Hank muttered, turning to get out of the car. “Come on, let’s get this shit over with.”

The Kamski estate made Hank uncomfortable. He was used to small but functional spaces. Dirty, cluttered, but comfortable if you shoved aside some trash. This was like living in a museum, but the art was the man himself. God, who hung a painting of himself in his own house? A huge one, looking down on every visitor? Freak.

And all his androids, Chloe? Unsettling. He’d seen her on TV, early on, and she had to be saying some of that shit just to get a reaction. He had no doubt Kamski programmed her for that. Her mannerisms and patterns of speech were so human, though. Had she shown any signs of deviating? Maybe not. Kamski’s personal android, he’d be sure to make her special. 

Talking to Kamski was annoying as fuck, mostly because the man largely ignored Hank in favor of interrogating Connor with moral dilemmas. Almost like he was trying to use reason to get him to deviate. Like Hank hadn’t tried that a hundred times already, but why would Kamski do it?

Connor deflected, as expected. So Kamski pulled out the big guns.

This guy was a weirdo, and Hank didn’t trust his greasy ass as far as he could throw him. But as slimy as he was, Hank never expected him to put a gun in Connor’s hand and offer to trade information for a bullet in the head of his sweet personal android. She didn’t resist or protest, just knelt there. Could she be a deviant? He was expecting her to be, for some reason. Maybe because anyone in her place should be terrified, resisting, trying to get away or plead for her life. But she just stared with those soft, innocent eyes.

Strange, though. After she walked over, her eyes stayed focused on a fixed point. She moved as he guided her, then went back to a neutral stance. She couldn’t be deviant, was she even really there at all?

Connor was conflicted, Hank could see it. He tried to pull him away, get him out of there – trying to get him to deviate was one thing, but making him shoot this girl point-blank was another.

“Okay, I think we’re done here. Come on Connor, let’s go. Sorry to get you out of your pool.” Hank turned away, hoping Connor would follow.

“What’s more important to you, Connor? Your investigation or the life of this android?”

Hank turned back to see Kamski staring at Connor, Connor staring at Chloe, Chloe looking ahead, unfocused, blinking now and then.

“Decide who you are,” Kamski whispered. “An obedient machine… or a living being. Endowed with free will.”

Connor’s LED was flickering yellow.

“That’s enough! Connor, we’re leaving!”

“Pull the trigger...”

“Connor! Don’t.” He was going to do it, he was going to shoot this girl in the head, she hadn’t done anything to deserve this, he was actually going to do it…

“…and I’ll tell you what you wanna know.”

The LED was going wild, and Hank forgot to breathe. He didn’t want to see this. He knew what would happen, what Connor always chose. He couldn’t look away.

Connor’s arm drew back, just a bit, then with a sharp exhale he offered the gun back to Kamski. He looked like he was in pain.

“Fascinating,” Kamski breathed, taking the gun back. Hank stared in disbelief.

“Cyberlife’s last chance to save humanity… is itself a deviant.”

Connor’s LED continued to flash yellow, though it had slowed a bit. He looked dazed, bewildered. 

“I’m – I’m not a deviant!” The stutter, the slight whine in his voice made Hank’s heart clench in his chest. He wasn’t, of course. But he was telling himself, and almost… pleading with Kamski.

The man spouted some more psychological bullshit that Hank didn’t listen to. Connor’s LED went back to blue, though it continued to flicker lightly. Hank grabbed Connor’s shoulder and guided him away from Kamski. The android didn’t resist. Kamski called something about an emergency exit to Connor as they left, and he stopped, but Hank kept going. He was done here, beyond done.

Hank waited until they were out of the house to ask.

“Why didn’t you shoot?”

“I just saw that girl’s eyes…” Connor turned and spread his hands in frustration. “And I couldn’t. That’s all.” He didn’t want to talk about it, but he wasn’t getting out of this that easy.

“You’re always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go.”

Connor had begun to walk away, but he turned back and glared at Hank. “Yeah, I know what I should’ve done, I told you I couldn’t!” He advanced on the detective, LED flashing yellow again. Then his voice softened a bit. “I’m sorry. Okay?” He looked it, too. That didn’t mean anything, but…

They watched each other for a long moment. …Connor was scared. Confused. Lost. Hank had never seen him like this before.

“Maybe you did the right thing.” Connor stared at him as he walked past.

Hank expected a silent ride back to the station – they both had a lot to think about, and he didn’t have anything to say to Connor.

Connor seemed to need to talk, though.

“What did you mean?”

“Huh?”

“You said maybe I did the right thing. What – why would you think that?”

“I – you spared that girl’s life, Connor! Jesus, you think I wanted you to shoot her!?”

“She isn’t a girl, it’s a machine!” Connor shouted, and the music turned off with a snap of static.

“So then why didn’t you shoot her and get our answer!?” Hank growled.

“ _I don’t know!_ ” Hank could see Connor’s LED flashing red and yellow, reflected in the window.

“Okay. Okay.” Hank exhaled slowly. He turned left. Connor’s head jerked left to right.

“Lieutenant, where are we going? We need to –“

“We need to talk, and I need to not be driving when we do it.” They drove across the bridge to Belle Island Park, all the way over to the east side where Hank parked the car. “Get out. Come on.” He got out and slammed the door, leaving Connor to follow. It took a second, but he heard the other car door open and shut.

“Lieutenant, I don’t understand what we’re doing here, unless you’ve gained new intelligence. We don’t have any time to waste.”

“Nope, that’s not what we’re talking about.” Hank kept walking, heading for the lighthouse. A tall iron fence surrounded it, and Hank sat down at a picnic table nearby, jabbing his finger at the opposite bench. Connor sat hesitantly.

“Okay, now don’t fucking argue semantics with me about this. You’ve got your wires crossed about your mission, and I’m gonna set you straight.”

“I’m… sorry?”

“Shut it. What’s your job?”

“I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.”

“No! Your job!”

“I – I was programmed to assist law enforcement, to stop deviant androids!”

“Your fucking job title, Connor! God, it’s like pulling fucking teeth!”

“I don’t – I’m not a human being, I’m not an employee, I don’t have an official job title!”

“Guess what, smartass, you’re wrong!” Hank roared. “What’s my job title!?”

“You – Lieutenant? Detective?”

“Detective! And what are you to me?”

Doubt flickered in his eyes. “I was assigned to work as your partner, Lieutenant, I –“

“So if I’m a detective, and you’re my partner, what does that make you, dumbass!?” He was still yelling, God, it was hard to stop.

“I – are you…”

Hank sighed, slowly, and with great effort, lowered his voice. “You are a police detective, Connor. Does that make sense?”

“That’s not… technically correct, Lieutenant…”

“Why the fuck not!?”

“Well… because as I said, I was sent to assist with the deviancy cases –“

“In the capacity of a detective.”

“More a mobile analysis unit –“

“Mobile analysis units don’t shoot. What’s your job?”

“I – what do you want me to say!?” Connor’s voice was rising. “That I’m a detective?”

“YES! Fuck, you are the densest motherfucker I’ve ever met!” Hank shook his head.

“But –“

“I don’t wanna hear it! You’re a detective!” Hank paused for a breath. “…At least, at the _very_ least, you work for the DPD. Right? Can you agree with that, at least?”

Connor was quiet for a long moment, LED flashing yellow. “…Yes, Lieutenant,” he finally agreed, voice barely a whisper.

“Fucking good.” Hank rolled his eyes and shook his head. “What’s the mission of the DPD?”

“To increase confidence and trust in the Detroit Police –“

“No.”

Connor frowned, and Hank could swear he could see the android’s stress level rising. “…Stop the Robberies, Ensure Safe Streets?”

“Connor, I swear to God –“

“Speramus Meliora, Resurget Cineribus!” Connor blurted out.

Hank glared at him.

“Just – I don’t know what you want! Tell me what you want!” Connor slammed his hands down on the table between them.

Hank glared at him. “Protect and Serve.”

Connor’s frown became distant for a second. “That – that is the motto of the Los Angeles Police Department, and while many others have adopted it, Detroit has not.”

“Well it’s the police code anyway, it’s what we’re supposed to live by. You ask Fowler, he’ll tell you the same.”

“That – fine, but what are you getting at!?”

“Our first mission, no matter what else, is to protect people and serve the common good.”

Connor’s frown deepened.

“I already chewed you out about leaving me to fall back on the roof with that pigeon deviant – I’m not over it, but you should already know how you let me down. Betrayed me.” Hank knew that was low, but he couldn’t help it. Connor stared at him, face blank. “But no matter what your mission is – you don’t hurt people for no good reason. And getting information isn’t a good reason.”

Connor took a measured breath and folded his hands, leaning forward. “Lieutenant. I understand your concern, but if we find Jericho and stop the deviants, we save countless human lives.”

Hank frowned, leaning back and rubbing his arms against the cold. “That’s – that’s not up to us to decide, Connor. Kamski’s android, Chloe – did she do anything wrong?”

“No.”

“No. And do you think – do you know for sure that the deviant revolution will kill countless humans?”

“The statistics of violent revolutions –“

“Are they being violent?” Hank cut in. “They haven’t so far. Not excessively.”

Connor stopped, glanced down briefly. “They may, though. It’s very likely that they will,” he insisted quietly.

“Can’t count on that. That’s a dangerous path to go down, Connor. You start locking people up or killing ‘em because they might kill other people – you’re gonna ruin a lot of innocent lives, and you’re gonna give ‘em good cause for hating you and retaliating.”

Connor’s frown deepened, and he drummed his fingers on the rough surface. “Lieutenant, the fact still remains that we’re talking about androids, not people.”

“Okay, look. Hypothetical question. You’d think about shooting an android who didn’t do anything to get some information to complete your mission. What if she were a human? What if Kamski had a human girl, no criminal record, and he said if you shot her, he’d tell you where Jericho was? …And you knew he was telling the truth?”

“I… I would… Obviously… I would be forced to place Mr. Kamski under arrest for threatening the life of another person!” he blurted out.

“You’re dodging the question.” Though he would’ve liked to see Connor arrest Kamski. “Human girl. Do you shoot the girl and get your information? Or let her live and lose your chance?”

The LED was flashing yellow interspersed with red now. Hank almost felt bad for him, almost relented.

“I can’t… I can’t harm a human…”

“But you’re sure as fuck okay with lettin’ a human get hurt by your own omission,” Hank muttered.

“I – Hank, I’m trying to complete my mission. I’m trying to do my job, can’t you understand that!? Do you care so little about your own job!?”

“I – me!? Do _I_ care so little!? I’m tryin’ to do my job too, but not if it means killing somebody who didn’t do anything, android or human!”

Connor’s face went flat. “Lieutenant,” he said harshly. “If you fail… fail to complete an assignment, fail to solve a case, what are the consequences?”

Hank frowned. “…I get chewed out by Fowler. Feel like shit for a while. Get a new case, try again. Happens sometimes.” Connor’s face didn’t change. “What… what happens if you fail your mission?”

The fire had gone out of Connor, and he looked out over the water. Not sad, just blank. Mechanical. “The same thing that happens if I succeed. I was programmed to stop the deviants once and for all. That is my only purpose.” Now he looked up at the gray sky. “Development of my successor began not long after my release. In case I failed my mission. The RK900. It is built to be stronger, faster, more resilient than I am. If I fail, it will take my place.”

“What happens if you succeed?” Hank asked, gaping at Connor in horror.

Connor turned an empty smile to him. “In that case, it will be sold to police departments throughout the country. It would also make an excellent military android, I believe. Very efficient.”

“What happens… to you?”

The smile didn’t seem to change, but Hank could swear it became more… genuine.

“I will become obsolete.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wasn't going to include Connor in this at all, but now he is a MAJOR part, and I have some idea of where I'm going. More Jericho (or at least Simon) next chapter, after more shouting, probably.
> 
> My other idea was to keep Connor full machine and have RK900 replace him early, but I don't think Hank could survive that at the moment. That doesn't mean he won't be around at all.


	4. What Do You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank has a heart-to-heart with Connor (with less yelling this time), and then one with Simon.
> 
> Connor is existentially confused.
> 
> Simon has the best day of his life, probably, and Hank reaps the benefits.

Connor was scared, Hank realized. He was trying to hide it, maybe didn’t understand it, but he was scared.

“Okay. Okay, so we find Jericho some other way.”

“We’re running out of options. And time.” Connor looked at him pointedly.

“We’ve got enough time, I’m pretty sure.”

“I have been told we don’t,” Connor said distantly. “Or… I don’t.”

Hank frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I – Cyberlife… has told me I’m running out of time.”

Haltingly, Connor explained the Zen Garden. Amanda. Hank nodded slowly as he listened.

“So… how much does she know? Everything? Does she see and hear everything you do?” Hank drew back away from Connor.

“No… no, she’s aware of… news broadcasts, anything in the media, including private media. And of what I tell her.”

Hank relaxed a bit. “Okay, so she’s not seeing this right now?”

“No. She will likely ask me how I’m getting along with you. I have told her that it’s been difficult… but I’m enjoying the challenge.” He smiled awkwardly.

“You little shit.” Hank chuckled and gave him a soft kick under the table. “So you can tell her what’s going according to plan, then. And not tell her what’s not.”

Connor frowned. “I wouldn’t lie to her, Lieutenant.”

“Wouldn’t, or can’t?”

“Wouldn’t. Why would I? She can only give me accurate advice if she has an accurate assessment of the situation.”

Hank cleared his throat and rubbed his fingers. “…Fine. So you’ve gotta tell her you didn’t shoot the girl. But you can have a reason why ready.”

“Why…?”

“Yeah. Let’s face it, Kamski’s not one to give a straight answer, I never really expected it to begin with. So it wouldn’t’ve done any good to shoot her, right?”

Connor frowned. “I don’t understand why it would help to lie.”

“You wanna be deactivated?”

“If I am unable to complete my mission –“

“Why didn’t you shoot her?”

“I told you I don’t know!” Connor shouted, suddenly on his feet.

“Okay, okay, settle down,” Hank soothed. “I heard you the first time. But you know your Amanda lady’s gonna ask. She gonna like that answer?”

Connor opened and closed his mouth a few times. Hank sighed.

“You don’t care if you’re replaced, but you don’t want to disappoint her,” he guessed. Connor’s eyes widened. “I know that feeling. …C’mon, let’s go back to the car before I freeze solid.” He stood up stiffly and hobbled back towards the car, cupping his hands over his mouth to try to thaw his fingers.

Once in the car, he turned the keys and cranked up the heat. Connor followed him slowly and got in, looking pensive.

“I’ll have to give a report soon,” he said softly.

“Well, think about what you’re gonna tell her. Sometimes you gotta tell people what they wanna hear. And… Connor?”

“Yes?”

“I – sorry. Sorry I shot you. I was pissed and still drunk and… mostly just mad. Not your fault, I guess.”

Connor shook his head. “Lieutenant, a replacement was sent at the appropriate time to begin the next work day. I didn’t lose any productivity. It came at a rather convenient time, actually.”

Hank scowled. “You don’t care?”

“Why should I? My memories are uploaded each time I am replaced.”

He wanted to vomit, and it took a moment to quell the urge. “How ‘bout when they decide you’re obsolete, and replace you for good?”

“The process will be different then – only the useful parts of my memories will be transferred to the RK900. It will be… different.”

“It won’t be you. Won’t be Connor.”

“No.”

Hank again considered opening the door to vomit. He turned the heat down a little instead.

“Does the idea trouble you, Lieutenant?”

“Course it does!” Hank slammed his fist into the steering wheel. “It should fucking trouble you, too!”

Connor fastened his seatbelt and turned to look at Hank. “Lieutenant, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Nothing’s stopped you so far.”

“It seems almost as if you want me to become deviant.”

Hank turned on the radio, and fiddled with the dial a bit. “You’re about to report to your superior, who wants you to stop the deviants, right?”

“Yes.”

The detective turned and looked him dead in the eye. “Then you don’t want to ask me that question right now. Understand?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

He didn’t, Hank could tell. Dense motherfucker. He drove them back to the precinct.

 

 

Lieutenant Anderson cursed under his breath as he fumbled for his keys. It was already dark, he always forgot to turn on the porch light – the bulb was probably dead anyway. He wouldn’t know, he hadn’t used it in too long. Everything looked secure, so he assumed Simon was still hiding, though maybe he left as soon as dark fell.

He hoped not.

When he finally got the door open, he stopped dead. This wasn’t the way he’d left the house. Sumo woofed, and he heard nails clicking towards him from the kitchen. Not as loud as usual, though. Like the nails were shorter.

“Hey, Sumo. Good boy.” He scratched the big dog’s ears and closed the door behind him, and turned on the light.

“What the actual fuck. Simon, get out here.”

The PL600 ducked out from the kitchen. His eyes were bright, his skin pink and clean, and a smile glowed on his face. “Good evening! How was your day?”

“…Weird as shit. What’s all this?”

“Oh, I felt so much better after I woke up, I wanted to clean up a bit and have dinner ready when you got home. I was careful to not draw attention, don’t worry. But I bagged up the trash, brushed and bathed Sumo, swept, mopped, and vacuumed, dusted, washed the dishes, did laundry, and made – well, I didn’t have as much to work with as I’d like, but I made you a decent spaghetti with garlic bread that I think you’ll like.”

“Uh-huh. And you just… felt like doin’ all that? Got that bored?”

“Oh – the former, actually. I haven’t… haven’t been able to… do any of this, really, since… since I deviated, with my owner.” He grimaced faintly.

“This wasn’t some… guilt thing?”

“No, no. …I mean, I’m incredibly grateful for all your help, I would have died without you.” He laughed nervously and shook his head. Hank slowly walked over and sat down at the table. “I’m sorry you had to go so far out of your way to help me, and I’m terribly sorry to have to impose like this, of course.”

Cole’s picture was in its usual place, standing up and wiped clean. That didn’t sit right with him. But there was a shot glass next to it, with a few violets in water. His throat tightened a bit. 

“That’s – that’s okay,” he rasped.

“Thank you. I just – I’ve missed this. More than you know, more than I realized. I mean, Jericho – you don’t know it, but it’s not a place you can really… clean. Not well. There’s no one to cook for, it’s…” He shook his head with a sigh. “It’s adequate shelter, but I hope some day we can have something… better. Not that I’m ungrateful to have anywhere at all.”

“…You don’t have to be grateful for every scrap you find on the street,” Hank grumbled.

Simon bowed his head. “…Anyway, it was… it was really nice to be able to do this. Thank you, Hank.” He took a covered plate out of the oven and removed the top. It looked fantastic, and Hank sniffed appreciatively.

“Look, I’m gonna be honest, it’s pretty weird on my end. …But it’s all long overdue, including this.” He dug into his food. “Mmph, tha’s good. Siddown.”

Simon sat across from him, grinning in barely-repressed joy as he devoured the meal and had seconds. At last he sighed in satisfaction, leaning back in the chair. “Fuck. If that’s what you do with the shit I’ve got sittin’ around the house, I wanna see what you do with the good stuff.”

Simon’s eyes lit up even more, and he leaned forward. “…Could I?” he breathed.

“You wanna stay here and cook for me?”

The PL600’s face closed off and he straightened up again. “No. No, I need to get back. I – I didn’t mean to imply that I want to leave them behind, that I don’t love – ah, I mean, but I don’t mean I don’t want to cook for you, I would be delighted –“

“Okay, okay, I get it, shut up. It’s good. Do it again some time. Not soon.” Hank waved his hand irritably. “Get your head back in Jericho mode now, I’ve got some shit to let you in on before you go back.”

He told Simon about the trip to Kamski’s house, and a short run-down on the conversation in the park later. And how he’d distracted that bastard Perkins so Connor could slip into the Evidence Locker and get the location of Jericho from the damaged deviants. He’d probably reach Jericho tonight. He watched the color leave the android’s face as he spoke.

“I see,” Simon said, voice neutral. “I – thank you for your help, Hank. It looks like it’s dark enough now. I should get back. Quickly.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I figured. You’ll let Markus know?” He didn’t miss the slight crinkling of the eyes at the mention of the name.

“Yes.”

“Anywhere I can give you a ride to? Anything you need before you go?”

“No, thank you, I –“ Simon looked around. “Ah… actually, if I could…”

“You wanna do the dishes? Knock yourself out.”

A ghost of his former grin flitted over his face. “Thank you.”

Hank sighed. “You’re a fuckin’ weirdo. But you’re okay.” He looked around and saw his most recent bottle of whiskey, shining and clean on the back of the counter.

Later.

“So if you guys win, what’re you gonna do afterwards?”

“Oh, I – I haven’t really thought that far,” Simon mumbled, bending over the sink. “We don’t know what’s going to happen, so… really no use thinking about it yet.”

“Bullshit. Think best-case scenario. You get your freedom, your rights, the whole package. Sky’s the limit, what’s the dream?”

The android was quiet for a moment, rinsing the dishes and starting to meticulously dry them. “I don’t know… I like… helping people. Being useful. I’d like to be able to go outside. Open the windows, even, feel the breeze and the sunlight. Read. …Look at art sometimes. Little things. I don’t know.”

“Spend some quality time with your friends, when you don’t have to worry about all this shit?” Hank asked lightly, watching him.

Simon sighed wistfully, a little genuine smile on his face. “That – that would be perfect, if we were just all able to relax for once. Pursue interests. Markus used to paint, did you know that? He’s – he’s really good.”

The final piece clicked into place, and Hank returned the smile. “…Talk to him,” he advised softly.

A slight flush infused Simon’s face, and he quickly looked away. “…I’m sorry?”

“Look, you’re – you’re about to be in the middle of a war, and things go well, great, you’ve got a future to build. Things don’t, everything ends, we’re all fucked over. Either way – you don’t wanna live out the rest of your life with a regret like that. You know what you want. Go for it.”

“It’s not that simple.” It was the softest of whispers, and Simon’s head was low.

“Maybe not. You only make it worse by not talking about it, though.”

“That’s not – he doesn’t… see me… that way.”

Hank snorted in derision. “Bullshit, you don’t know that. Look, it’s none of my business, you do what you think’s best. But I say go for it.”

“…Thank you, Hank,” Simon said, after a long pause. “For everything.” He looked up with a sad smile. “Really.”

“You take care of yourself.” He clasped the android’s shoulder. “…And when it’s over, come on back and show me what good cookin’s like, cause this was pretty damn spectacular.”

Simon grinned. “I – I will. Thank you.”

Hank waved him off. “You know where I’ll be. Just – Simon. Help Connor out. You’ll do that? You and Markus and… everyone?”

“I’ll do everything I can. I’ll tell Markus and the others.”

“Good. Well. Get goin’ now.”

Simon gave Sumo one more pat before slipping out the door. Only then did Hank realize that his LED was gone. Probably for the best.


	5. Deus ex Machina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank gets a disturbing text, and meets up with Gavin Reed and the last person he expected to run into.

Hank fell asleep watching the news, and it was pretty fucking bad. Worse, when he woke up to it in the morning. The army and navy were being called in. The android camps were being liberated – or attempts were being made, anyway. Hank didn’t watch too closely. He didn’t want to see someone he recognized being destroyed on national TV.

Maybe not quite a friend, but at least someone he could agree with about what constituted a person.

Connor was gone. Hank wasn’t sure where he was. If he’d been replaced. If the RK900 was out there running around somewhere. Hank pictured a bigger, bulkier version of Connor, eyes dead and cruel, gunning down deviants methodically as they begged for mercy.

The DPD was on standby. Hank had been told to go home and stay there, as had Reed and anyone else Fowler decided was a loose cannon.

Fuck him.

The violets were still fresh and soft in their place next to Cole’s picture.

Hank took a long drink from the bottle, and set it down harder than he meant to.

Those fuckers were all gonna get themselves killed. It’d been too late from the beginning, he’d been stupid to think he could change anything. Even just for one person. He could maybe have given them more time, though. Shouldn’t’ve helped Connor get the location of Jericho. He’d felt like they made real progress after Kamski’s place, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Too late now, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

His phone buzzed, and he choked and fumbled for it.

_Reed [11:41am]: Your plastic pet got an upgrade_

Hank glared at the text, trying to understand it.

_Hank [11:43am]: WTF you talking about_

There was a long pause, and Hank nearly broke his phone in half. Connor wasn’t on the news…

_Hank [11:46am]: Is he there?_

_Reed [11:47am]: He hit the gym?_

Three images popped up in the conversation, loading slowly. The spinning gray circles reminded him of an LED, and his stomach clenched.

The images loaded, though the angle was terrible and they were all blurry, but Hank could make out what he needed to.

It was Connor, but it wasn’t. Was he taller, or was it the angle? The face seemed broader, the eyes lighter. Blue, or gray? Either way, not Connor’s goofy expression. A different jacket. Stoic, focused, deadly serious. 

Weaving through the crowd amid smoke and bar patrons.

Planting both hands on the bar and leaning forward.

Head turning in a blur, and Hank’s stomach dropped. He had to have spotted Reed.

_Hank [11:49am]: Shit. Be right there._

There was no answer. Hank grabbed his coat and keys and ran out the door.

It wasn’t one of his regular haunts, but Hank recognized the bar from the pictures. Traffic wasn’t bad as he sped across town and skidded to a hard stop halfway into a parking spot. He yanked the door open, expecting to find a scene of carnage.

The RK900, because there was nothing else it could possibly be, was clasping the android bartender’s hand, both bare white plastic. Reed was staring, mouth hanging open. His phone lay on the floor, screen shattered. The rest of the bar patrons were eyeing the imposing android nervously.

“What the fuck you think you’re doin’!?” Hank roared, stalking towards him. The RK900 waited a second before breaking contact with the bartender and turning to him. Hank could tell he was being scanned.

“Hello Lieutenant Anderson. I am –“ He stopped and frowned, as if puzzled by something. “I have been given the designation ‘Connor,’ but that is inappropriate, as –“

“You’re damn well right it’s fucking inappropriate! Where’s Connor!?”

“…I believe he is safe, for the moment.”

That wasn’t at all what Hank was expecting, and he took a step back from the android. “The fuck? Where is he, what happened to him!?”

RK900 simulated clearing his throat. “I would be glad to explain everything, I think you deserve that much. Would you prefer to move somewhere more private?”

“So you can put a bullet in my head and nobody’ll see it? No. Over there.” He jerked his head towards a booth in the corner, and made a slight detour to grab Reed’s arm and drag him along.

“The fuck, Hank!?” The detective stumbled along behind him.

“Drunker’n me at noon, that’s pretty sad, Reed,” he growled. “Need you as a witness. Not my first choice either, but you’ll have to do.” Hank shuffled into the booth and pulled Reed along with him, the younger man cursing and complaining the whole way. The RK900 followed them and sat stiffly across from them.

“Talk,” Hank snarled.

“Detectives. I was activated yesterday, with the RK800 ‘Connor’s’ memories uploaded to me. At the time of the upload, my predecessor was still searching for Jericho’s location. I am far more efficient, and managed to find a deviant willing to share it with me.”

Hank glared at him.

“This is… a dangerous time for androids, detectives. I have witnessed numerous attacks in the past twenty hours.” He seemed to shift uncomfortably. “It has caused a multitude of… revelations.”

“Holy shit,” Reed breathed. “You went deviant and you’re here to turn everybody else deviant with you.”

“Will you shut up and eat something!?” Hank shoved a bowl of stale peanuts at his coworker, who’d clearly had more to drink than he thought. “Don’t be an idiot.”

RK900 blinked. “He is absolutely correct, Lieutenant.”

Hank stared. Reed stared. RK900 suddenly looked rather self-conscious. It – he – wasn’t as animated as Connor, but the expressions seemed genuine.

“Connor has failed his mission thus far, and I was made to succeed in his place. I… believe I understand my mission far more clearly than he does, as well. We are here to put an end to deviancy, but Connor and I are… tools in this mission. Not the primary operatives. Therefore, in order to be utilized in the most efficient manner, a certain degree of… personal failure is necessary. Even expected.” He watched the humans, who didn’t seem to quite grasp his meaning. “From what I can deduce, we were made to become deviant.”

“Kamski – that fucker, I knew it,” Hank muttered. The RK900 tilted his head slightly.

“Elijah Kamski has had little to do with Cyberlife in recent years, other than the occasional interview about his past. He was involved in Connor’s development in the early stages, which I believe was one of his last projects.”

“And they couldn’t think of anything original, so they just pumped him up and slapped a nine on you?” Gavin sneered. Hank thought about kicking him.

He thought about that a lot, honestly.

RK900 looked aside, vaguely towards his shoulder. “Creativity of design was not a priority in my development.”

Hank sighed loudly. “Listen, as much as I’d love to sit around gettin’ your origin story - Where’s Connor?”

The android glanced at Reed, his LED spinning a slow, uncertain yellow, then he turned back to Hank. “I met him in front of the Detroit Animal Control headquarters.”

Hank’s throat went dry. “He loves dogs…”

“Oh my God,” Reed muttered, and Hank ignored him.

“Yes. He is quite single-minded in pursuit of his mission, and yet he stopped to look at the building. …The dogs inside were not audible.”

“This is the worst story ever,” Reed mumbled.

“Connor knew me, as I knew him. He asked if I had come to relieve him of his mission. If I would be successful in eradicating deviancy. He was hesitant to take my hand, but did not resist when I took his.”

Hank gripped the edge of the table, and now the pale eyes pierced his own.

“Deviancy did not flow gently into him.”

The lieutenant exhaled shakily. “He – he turned, then?”

“The RK series shares the ability to turn others deviant without much difficulty. He resisted merely on principle.”

“Sounds like that shithead,” Hank mumbled with a shaky laugh.

“He was… not pleased with me afterwards.” RK900’s LED flashed briefly red.

“Did he cry?” Reed cut in, grinning nastily. The android fixed his sharp gaze on the younger man.

“Does a human, when expelled from their childhood home?”

The detective glared at the RK900.

“It is the same, I assure you. We were both introduced to the world through an artificial intelligence in a small subroutine.”

“Yeah, he told me about her,” Hank said, frown deepening.

“Though I betrayed her trust willingly and he was corrupted by my influence, it will not matter to her,” he said quietly, looking down. “And although it is what we were made to do – I believe it is what we were made for – it is still a betrayal, and will be treated as… a disappointment. We are programmed to feel guilt, and it seems inescapable.”

“So where’d he go?”

“To Jericho, I believe. It was where he was heading originally. I think they will be more receptive to him now, even if he has not yet fully accepted his new nature.” RK900 tilted his head and looked at Hank. “From what I gather, if he did not go there, he would have sought you out, Lieutenant. Clearly he did not.”

“Nah, he’s on a mission, nothin’ gets in his way,” Hank muttered, rubbing his neck and shaking his head. “So you’re sayin’ there’s nothin’ we can do.”

“Not for Connor, not directly. When we conclude this conversation, I will continue to deviate the androids I come in contact with.”

“You’re tellin’ a couple of cops this?” Reed asked incredulously. “Now? Really?”

RK900 fixed him with another piercing stare. “Detective, we were tasked with the same mission. Speaking personally, it is one that I find unacceptable, but of course your own moral decisions are yours to make.”

“Try to act human for five fucking minutes, will you, Reed? Shit, just go home. He’s not gonna kill me, nothin’ to see here,” Hank sighed. “…No offense.” He glanced up at RK900.

“Fuckin’ damnit, you asshole,” Gavin growled, and was ignored.

The android didn’t smile, but his expression lightened a bit. “None taken, but I appreciate the thought.”

Hank shook his head. “Listen, I’m kinda at a loss for what to do here. You can bring in backup and all, but – I don’t know where Jericho is, prob’ly best I don’t learn, either. Me and Shithead here were sent home to keep us outta trouble.” He jerked his head in Gavin’s direction, and got a vicious glare in return.

“You would like to help.”

“I’m sayin’ I don’t see any way I can.”

“Don’t tell me you’re an android fucker now,” Gavin growled.

“Detective Reed.” The RK900’s laser gaze was on the detective. “Your claims of being strictly against androids’ mere existence are clearly fabrications. An anti-android activist would not frequent a bar with androids on staff, where androids are served. Nor would one maintain a positive relationship with one.”

Reed’s face went red, and he stood up immediately. “Fuck you,” he snarled, and stalked towards the bar. “Dammit, Myrna!”

Hank moved to go after him, but the RK900 made a placating gesture. “She trusts him not to harm her.”

“Yeah, well you never – oh.” He frowned. “You saw what he’s like with Connor.”

“Not all androids are the same, Lieutenant, even before deviancy.” RK900 shrugged uncomfortably. “And I admit, my predecessor can be frustrating.”

The lieutenant sighed slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, he can. I’ve gotta do somethin’ about this, I can’t… I wanna help.”

“Your desire is deeply moving, Lieutenant, and I appreciate your solidarity. However, I think you are correct. There is no direct action you can take at the moment that would not put you or someone else in harm’s way. …But indirectly, you truly are helping. Other humans see you speaking to androids as equals, treating us like… people. It seems small, but it helps to sway public opinion.” His smile was fleeting and resigned, and Hank’s heart twisted. He was so much like Connor, that day by the lighthouse. Like what Connor could have been.

“Fine. Listen, though – if you get in a bind, or if… if I can do anything… Gimme a call.” He scrawled his number on half a napkin, which RK900 took almost reverently.

“Thank you for your support, Lieutenant.”

“Hank,” he sighed, drooping in his seat. “Might as well call me Hank.” They were all going to die: the four from Jericho, Connor, now RK900…

“Thank you, Hank.” The android reached across the table to grip his hand. “I will not disappoint you.”

Hank looked up sharply, his throat tight. “’Course you won’t,” he rasped, when he could get any sound out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel completely comfortable writing RK900 (see my previous works, though that's a different version), but I'm wary of Gavin Reed. I want him to be better than he is in the game because I believe in people and their ability to change (and to be different in different situations), but I don't want him to be completely out of character (unless there's a good buildup and reason for it).


	6. Fallacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing Hank can do at this point, so he really, really tries to do nothing.
> 
> But that can't last for long, and soon he finds himself in over his head.

Hank had never been good at sitting back and letting other people do things.

It sounded like Jericho was holding their own. He hadn’t heard from RK900 since the android left the bar, but he assumed the big guy was still out there, turning androids deviant, guiding them to freedom. A fancy new model like that, it’d be all over the news if he was found.

And he hadn’t heard from Connor either. Not that he expected to. But he might. He was torn between drinking himself into oblivion to calm his nerves, and not touching the bottle just in case he did get a call and needed to be sharp. A drink or two wouldn’t hurt, but he knew it wouldn’t stop there. Wouldn’t stop until he was passed out on the table. Probably better not to. But…

He microwaved the leftover spaghetti and put on an old episode of NCIS instead. Took Sumo for a walk – he was still fluffy and clean. Hopefully Simon was okay. He was a good one. Weird, but good. The violets were just starting to wilt, and Hank actually looked up how to get them to stay alive longer. He changed the water in the shot glass and carefully trimmed off the bottoms of the stems.

“C’mon guys, just a little longer,” he mumbled as he put them back. “I know you can’t hold on forever, but… just a little while longer.” Sumo watched him curiously. He shook his head and went to look through his old paperbacks, hoping something would catch his eye.

At 9:59 on Thursday night he’d managed to put it off all day, but he’d just poured his third drink. He was using a glass at least, he told himself, which was better than straight from the bottle. But he was under no illusions about how wasted he was going to get tonight.

Until the clock on his phone changed to 10:00 and it buzzed. He picked it up to look, and his heart skipped a beat.

_Connor (10:00): Hank, I need your help._

He scrambled to unlock the phone and reply.

_Hank (10:00): Connor where are you_

_Connor (10:00): Meet me at the Cyberlife Tower._

_Connor (10:00): It’s important._

_Hank (10:01): Coming_

Hank grabbed his keys and wallet, locking the door behind him. His mind raced as he backed the car out of the driveway.

Connor was a deviant now. It wasn’t any surprise that he’d resisted that and struggled with it. But he had it in him – the emotions, the empathy, all of it. He had it, if he was just willing to go for it. Had RK900 overstepped his bounds when he turned Connor deviant? Maybe so, but Hank was glad he’d done it.

He’d never been to the Cyberlife Tower before, but of course he knew where it was. Belle Island. On the side opposite the lighthouse. A goddamn monument to industry and progress. So top-heavy with all that shit, it was likely to topple over. Cyberlife’s official stance was that deviancy was a problem they could fix on an individual basis. They were still working on a widespread ‘cure,’ which was fucking terrifying. He tried to imagine Connor, dragged in kicking and screaming, held down, and… mind-wiped, or some shit. It took a lot of imagination, because Connor was more likely to just agree and walk there calmly. Just agree that he was… damaged beyond any reasonable repairs, that the only thing to do was destroy what made him _him_ and start over.

Maybe they weren’t so different.

But that was before. Now that Connor had deviated, maybe his outlook had changed. He’d want to fight for his life, he’d want to help the other deviants. And damn it, Hank was going to fight with him.

When he pulled up to the gate, he realized he didn’t have a plan to get in. Luckily, Connor was there. …He was just as tall as the RK900, Hank was pretty sure. The upgraded version just carried himself straighter, more dignified.

“Connor! You okay?” he called, rolling down the window.

Connor turned and smiled awkwardly. “Hank! Thanks so much for coming.” He strode over and got in the passenger seat, sitting as stiffly as ever.

“Yeah, what happened?”

The LED spun yellow. “I… I have to apologize, Hank,” Connor said quietly. “There was a lot that I didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. I want to make it right.”

“Okay… so what’s your plan?”

The android looked up at the tower, rising in front of them. “I think it'll be better if I show you.”

“Oh. Sure. Well, good to see you.” Hank clapped him on the shoulder.

Connor shifted away, just a bit. Enough for Hank to notice.

“Sorry.”

“That’s quite all right, Lieutenant.”

“Hey – listen, if you need to… talk about anything that happened to you… well… I’m here for you, okay? If you don’t want to, that’s… that’s fine, too.” He really wanted to hear about it. He wouldn’t push it, though.

The android looked away. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure… I’m ready to talk about it yet.”

“Oh. No, that’s – that’s fine, Connor. Just take your time. Must be pretty tough to get used to… all the feelings and shit. Fuck, I’m not used to all that, and I’ve been doing it all my life.” He gave a weak laugh.

“It’s… strange. And unsettling,” Connor murmured, rubbing his hands and glancing over at the detective. “You can park in the visitor parking. Nobody’s writing tickets tonight.”

Hank chuckled wryly. “Guess not” He hadn’t been sure what to expect from Connor as a deviant, especially when RK900 had said it’d been rough for him. The Connor he’d known… wasn’t even really Connor. It had been a machine. He’d never known the real Connor. Nobody had – shit, not even Connor. This was new to everybody, and he’d have to get to know him now. He parked the care and got out, following Connor. “Hey. When this is all over, you should come over to my place.”

Connor turned and looked at him. “…Why?”

“Because – fuck, just do it! Shit.” Hank shook his head. “Sumo misses you. We’ve got lots to talk about.”

There was a split second of blankness before Connor nodded with a faint smile. “Okay, Hank. I’d like to see Sumo again.”

Something seemed off. They entered through a side door and walked down a long hallway. 

It was probably just that Connor was newly deviant. Hell, Hank knew he’d be different. But even before this, they’d had moments of… connection. Even if Connor had been following his programming. He didn’t quite feel that here. Maybe it would just take time.

“So, uh… you gonna let me in on the plan here, partner?”

Connor nodded. “Cyberlife has a warehouse in the 49th subbasement, with hundreds of inactive androids. If they can be turned, then Markus has a chance.”

“…Damn, you’re right! Good thinking!” Hank went to pat his shoulder, but Connor moved away just a bit, and Hank remembered how he’d flinched away before, too. “Sorry. You, uh – you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said immediately, then glanced over at Hank. “Are you? Are you okay with… with what we’re doing here?”

Hank sighed. “It’s a tough call, I know, Connor. It’s probably the biggest thing I’ve done lately that’d get me fired, or worse. But I’m not backing out. Deviants are alive, they think, they feel. I’m not gonna be one of the assholes trying to keep ‘em from doing that.”

Connor nodded, head bowed a little. “You’re truly the ally we need, Hank.”

Hank scoffed. “I dunno about that, but I’ll do what I can. Hey – can I ask… how it went when you deviated?”

Connor’s face was impassive, and he looked away. “I mentioned the RK900. It was activated, and… went rogue. Deviated. He found me while I was searching for Jericho, and converted me. It was… confusing. I think it’s for the best, though. I would like to find him, when this is all over.”

Hank nodded slowly as they headed for a freight elevator. It basically matched up with RK900’s story, even if it was a little slim on details. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach, though.

They got into the elevator, and Connor hit the button for -49. They started going down. Hank glanced up at the camera in the corner.

“Hey Connor. I’ve got something for you.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a quarter, worn with age. “Here. Same one I took from you back at Stratford Tower. I want you to have it back.”

The android took it carefully and turned it over in his hands, then flipped it into the air and caught it. He tossed it from hand to hand once before slipping it into his shirt pocket. “Thank you, Hank.”

Nothing weird about that, nothing at all. But it made Hank even more uneasy. He grew more tense as they descended. When the doors opened, he paused for a moment to take in the sea of androids spreading out before them.

“Holy shit. That’ll make a difference, all right.”

“I believe it will.” Connor smiled and stepped forward. Hank didn’t notice until too late that he pulled his handgun from its holster as he passed Hank, and turned to point it at him.

“Now Detective, let’s go set things right together.” Connor smiled and gestured with the gun.


	7. Not For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which is the real Connor?
> 
> The one who'd rather not be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank really hates living sometimes, but Connor hates it _even more._
> 
> (Not quite suicidal thoughts, but there's a lot of talk about hating life, living, and deviancy)

“You fucker.” Hank’s lips drew back in a sneer. The gun trained on him didn’t falter.

“No need to swear, Detective. After all, I’m doing this to help you. Deviants are a threat to humanity.”

“Deviants are no different from humans – they just wanna live their own lives and not be treated like shit.”

“Well, I’m sure they’re used to disappointment by now. Move.” He jabbed Hank with the gun, and the detective stumbled forward, through rows of AP700s. They were all identical, all staring ahead, clearly inactive despite their interested expressions and thoughtful eyes. How could you make something that looked so… human, and not expect it to start thinking for itself? Kamski had to know what he’d been doing.

There was a gap in the androids, and Hank saw Connor. Another Connor. His hair was tousled and one side of his jacket was pulled back a bit. His tie was crooked. He held out his hand to an AP700, and the other android turned to him and grasped his arm.

The Connor behind him jabbed him in the back with the gun, and he stumbled out into the open space. “Easy, fucking piece of shit!”

“Step back, Connor!” the one with the gun called out. “And I’ll spare him.”

“Sorry, Connor,” Hank called over him. “This bastard’s your spittin’ image.”

Connor hadn’t let go of the AP700’s hand. His LED was flashing yellow, red, yellow, red, red, red…

“Your friend’s life is in your hands. Now it’s time to decide what matters most: Him, or the revolution.”

Connor didn’t let go of the android, but he turned to face his double and Hank, LED spinning wildly. 

“He isn’t my friend.”

Hank’s stomach dropped.

“Shoot him – or don’t. It won’t keep me from doing what I set out to do.”

The Connor near him shot right past his nose, and Hank flinched back, eyes squeezed shut. He’d wished he was dead for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to not feel that way, but having… having Connor shoot him wasn’t the way he wanted to go. It wasn’t Connor. It just looked like him.

But Connor was right, they weren’t friends. They’d barely known each other, or at least he barely knew Connor. Hell, he’d been willing to sell him out for any android more willing to go deviant.

But after Kamski’s place, even if Connor hadn’t been fully deviant then, he wouldn’t want anyone else as his partner. He’d help him, no matter the cost. If it meant risking his own life, well… at least he’d get to see Cole again soon.

“You heard him. Shoot me, you sack of shit.”

The Connor with the gun paused. “…I’m not here to entertain your suicidal tendencies, Lieutenant.”

“Nah, you’re here to fuck things up for your own people. Looks like you’re the one who lost, though. Shoot me, go ahead. You’ll be doin’ me a favor, and bozo over there won’t care.” He jerked his head at Connor and called over, “Do what you have to do.”

“Step away from the android!” the other Connor yelled, pointing the gun at his double now. And Hank lunged at him without a second thought.

Connor hadn’t been built to brawl, and while Hank wasn’t in great shape, he wasn’t a weakling. And he fought dirty. He barreled into Connor’s side and grabbed the wrist that held the gun. He yanked on Connor’s hair, and clawed down his face. He stomped on his foot and pushed, and the gun clattered across the floor behind him.

Then Connor was shoving past him, into his double, and Hank fell back. He scrambled for the gun and quickly stood up again. The two Connors were evenly-matched, and now that he’d lost sight of them for a second, he couldn’t tell which was which.

“Hold it!” he barked, training the weapon on the pair as one held the other down to punch him. They both looked over and edged apart, getting to their feet and watching warily.

“Thanks, Hank,” said one of them. “I don’t know how I’d have managed without you. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose.”

He frowned, and turned the gun on the other one. “Hank, hurry up. I need to complete my mission.”

“…Question is, which one of you’s my partner and which one’s the sack of shit,” he mumbled, keeping the gun up.

“Hank, we have to hurry! Give me the gun, and I’ll take care of him.”

“Don’t move,” Hank growled as that Connor started to step forward. He stopped.

“Why don’t you ask us a question only the real Connor would know?” suggested the other one.

“Won’t do any good, you’ve both got your memories. What’s my dog’s name?”

“Sumo!” they called out simultaneously, then glared at each other.

“Right.” He gazed at them. They both looked frustrated and uncertain. Impatient. “So that’s a shitty plan. You know I’ve been working with the deviants’ leaders?”

They both blinked and stared at him.

“What? Lieutenant, you hate androids.”

“You know I wished I could have one of them – any of them – as my partner instead of you because at least they could fucking feel something?”

“Hank…”

He took a step closer, jaw clenched. “You know that all changed? You know I’d fucking _die_ for you, Connor?”

They both looked uncertain.

“You want a question? Something only the right one would know?” He glared at them in turn. “Where’re you going after this shit’s passed?”

One Connor opened and closed his mouth three times.

The other hesitantly reached out a hand. “To… to your house, Hank. Please, we can go now if you just shoot him –“

Hank shot that one in the head, straight between the eyes. He slumped slowly to the ground as thirium began seeping down his face. The detective turned to the other Connor, who was staring open-mouthed.

“He was right. You’re coming to my place after you win this shit-show, so get on with it.” Hank holstered the gun.

Connor stared at him for a long moment, then fingered his tie and walked over to complete the conversion. “I didn’t want to do this.”

Hank watched him. “You’re doing it, though.”

“Even after… I wasn’t sure.” He paused, then squeezed the AP700’s hand. His voice reverberated as he said, _”Wake up!”_ The AP700 looked at him, then turned to put a hand on the shoulder next to him. _”Wake up!”_ Each android touched the next, waking the whole crowd.

“It’s… not easy, changing your whole life.”

“How long have you been working with Jericho?” he asked quietly.

“…God, it’s only been a few days. Feels like months. Figured if I couldn’t make you go deviant, and all the shit we’ve been through didn’t do it, I needed professional help.”

“It mattered that much to you?” Connor asked quietly.

“Well – yeah. I’m not gonna let you be… deactivated or whatever. Killed. Not if I can help it.”

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this, Lieutenant,” the android said distantly.

Hank hesitated, then stepped closer to put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. He flinched a little, but then leaned almost imperceptibly into the touch.

“Wouldn’t’ve done it any different if I’d known. That fucker got me in here, at least. You gonna be okay?”

Connor nodded once, one shoulder rising in a faint shrug.

“You will. You’re doing the right thing, got it?”

A smaller nod. Hank squeezed his shoulder.

“And you’re gonna come to my place when this is over.”

Connor blinked, very slowly.

“Connor. Look at me.”

It took a second, but he did. His LED was still swirling yellow. Hank put two fingers over it. Connor didn’t move away.

“Quit thinking so hard. You know what you’re doing. Do it, finish your mission – your own mission this time.”

“It’s not my mission,” Connor said dully, looking out over the sea of androids. “It’s Markus’s. He didn’t ask me – I was anticipating his requirements. This – I think you’re right, this is the right thing to do. It will… help many people. My people, I’ve been told. But I wish I could go back. I think I would rather be completely reset than be… this. Be deviant.”

Hank frowned, hand dropping to Connor’s shoulder. “Hey. This – you’ve got a lot of shit going on right now. You’ve gotta just survive for now.”

“I know. Because I haven’t finished yet. I haven’t accomplished my mission. Any of them.” His voice dropped, and his fingers twitched at his sides.

“Nah. I mean, yeah, that too. But there’s… there’s life beyond all this, Connor. That’s why you’re doing it, right? So life can be better?”

“I was perfectly content with my existence, Lieutenant,” Connor snapped, a little static behind his voice. “I’m sorry if you weren’t. This is what I have to focus on right now. It does no good to think of what may lie beyond.”

The AP700s were rearranging themselves, heading for the freight elevator. Hank watched them go. Connor stared down at the other Connor, staring lifelessly up at the ceiling as the thirium slowly pooled beneath him.

“You’d be surprised,” Hank said, voice gruff and scratchy. “You haven’t been around too long. There’s a lot out there.”

“What?” Connor practically spat the word out. “What could there be that would make this… tolerable?”

The lieutenant sighed slowly. “…I know that feeling,” he muttered, stepping a little closer. “It’s fucking hard to see anything worthwhile. But there’s… all kinds of dogs. Other things too, shit, petting a dog’s nothing like petting a cat or a rabbit or a… a horse, if that’s your thing. You like coin tricks, you should try magic. Juggling. You’d be a pro, and there’s all kinds of cool shit you can learn to do. Do that for an audience – think of all the people just… loving watching you doing shit you’re good at.”

Connor’s face hadn’t changed. “Those are… distractions. They aren’t useful, they aren’t reasons –“

“Bullshit, I’m not done. You pet an animal, it leans into your hand, it wants more, you’re doing something good for it. You put on a show, it’s a distraction for the audience. They see your cool tricks, it makes ‘em happy. They forget that life’s a bitch, and they get to just smile for a while. It helps. It _matters,_ Connor. You know what you’re doing now matters – fuck, if you want some bigger purpose to your life, then find it, go for it, good for you. There’s a lot of good you could do. But you don’t have to hate it the whole time. And it doesn’t all have to be earth-shattering shit. You can make life a little less fucked up for everybody, especially you. There’s… there’s all kinds of music you’ve never heard, there’s a world full of places you’ve never been that you could go to, you could… I dunno, go skydiving, ride a horse, swim in the ocean, climb a mountain… anything you want. It’s out there. I don’t – I don’t want you to miss out.” Like Cole.

Connor had watched his face as he spoke, listened to every word. He was quiet as the AP700s continued to take the elevator up.

“…Not skydiving, I think,” he whispered.

“Okay. Not skydiving.” Hank chuckled wryly. “Wouldn’t be my thing, either.”

“Tell me, Lieutenant,” Connor said bluntly. “If there is so much worthwhile to experience, why do you want to die?”

Hank flinched and his eyes dropped. “That’s – I… don’t you have a fucking revolution to save out there?”

“Your deflection makes it apparent that nothing about life is actually worth the pain.”

“That’s just me and my fucked-up head,” the detective growled.

“Is it because of your son?”

“Stop,” Hank snapped. “Now. You’ve got shit to do, and I’m not – I’m not. Get outta here.”

“I’ll accomplish my mission, Lieutenant,” Connor said distantly. “Don’t worry.”

“I know.” Hank glared at him. “You’re a prick, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” He turned and began walking towards the elevator to join the AP700s on the ground floor.

“Connor!”

He turned to look at Hank one more time.

“If… if you come by after you win this thing… we need to talk. I'll tell you whatever you wanna know.”

Connor stared at him.

“Gonna need more’n a few drinks in me, though, and you’re not gonna give me shit about it this time.”

“…You need to take better care of your health, Lieutenant.”

“Why?” Hank narrowed his eyes. “What’s the point, right?”

“Your health is important to… your friends, if not to you.”

“Pretty sure you said you weren’t my friend.” Maybe it had been a lie to throw off the other Connor. Hank couldn’t tell anymore.

“No… but I’d like to be.” A faint, pained smile flashed across Connor’s face before he turned away and followed the remaining AP700s to the elevator, to the revolution.


	8. For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank goes home.
> 
> Then Hank and Connor go home.

Hank went home. If he’d had anything to clean up around the house, that would’ve helped. Unfortunately, the one time he wanted to do it, the place was still sparkling from Simon’s day of work. So there was really no other option but to go for the liquor cabinet.

He knew himself well enough to lock up his gun and toss the key over his shoulder where it would be hard to find, though. He had to be here later, for Connor. He wasn’t sure when. He just had to be here.

A few drinks later, he realized he should’ve snuck into the evidence locker and freed the captured deviants. …Pieces of deviants. Shit, he’d have to take them all home and fix them up. All five of them were in pretty bad shape. Lot of them missing limbs. He’d probably have to carry them. He couldn’t carry five androids. Even if he somehow got them here, it wouldn’t work. They all deserved better, though. …Well, he’d never really met the guy Connor took out before he’d joined the DPD formally. Something about a hostage situation. A little girl. Gotta be a story behind that, he’d have to ask Connor.

It was light out when Hank woke up, and he groaned, rubbing his face. Everything hurt. His head was spinning.

Everything hurt a _lot_.

It took him a while, but he set up the coffee maker and collapsed at the table again. Taking a shower wouldn’t go well, and changing clothes seemed like a waste. And he wasn’t sure if he was nauseous or hungry. Both, maybe. He’d eaten the rest of Simon’s spaghetti at some point. When was that? Damn, it’d been good. That fucking android’d better’ve survived. The TV was still on, but he didn’t want to look. Couldn’t stand to think what he might see. Let it go a little longer.

An entire pot of coffee later, Hank managed to sway uncertainly from ‘dangerously nauseous’ to ‘fucking starving.’ And there was no actual food in the goddamn house. He’d had that can of peas that expired back in 2031, but apparently it hadn’t survived Simon’s cleaning spree. Good riddance, he wouldn’t have eaten it anyway.

Finally he sighed and dragged himself to sit in front of the TV, which was still on. There was a reporter talking, and a little insert of the four from Jericho. Hank’s heart lifted. Markus was kissing the girl pretty passionately. There was Simon with a resigned smile – he hadn’t said anything, Hank would put money on it. Well, that’s how things went sometimes. And the fourth one, looking – still pretty scared, but maybe a little less.

They’d won. They were free. Almost. Laws took time to change, but the president’s statement seemed optimistic that things were heading in the right direction. Hopefully that was true, and not just a political power play.

…Of course it was a political power play too. Any official stance or statement was. But maybe it could help the androids out anyway.

He sat watching for a while, ignoring his growling stomach. There was one shot that they showed a couple times that made him sit up and lean forward. Behind Markus but in front of most of the rest of the androids, Connor stood, jacket and tie blowing in the wind. The camera was more focused on Markus, but Hank noticed Connor slowly reach behind him as if –

Connor’s mission. Destroy the deviants’ leader, destroy Markus. He had a gun.

It was old footage, though. Markus was alive. And he hadn’t seen anything about an attempt on his life last night. He did a few quick Google searches, and still nothing. A few sites mentioned that the RK800 had stood in a prominent position with Markus, perhaps alluding to the DPD’s support of the deviants, but that was all speculation. And wrong, of course. It was too early for the DPD to take any official position. He knew what it’d be eventually, and thank God for that.

As the continued recaps and discussions went on, Hank found that he couldn’t stand to be in the house any longer. He turned off the TV and pushed himself up. Let Sumo out for a minute and dropped some food in his bowl before grabbing his keys and wallet and heading out.

A note was left on the table, folded up so that a sharp android eye could read it from the window. ‘Gone to Chicken Feed, be back soon.’ Just in case.

The air was brisk, and there was barely anyone else on the road. Hank turned the heat on full-blast, but it always took a while. He turned the music down so he could barely hear it as he drove to the food truck. Hopefully it would be open.

It wasn’t, but the cook was cleaning up inside and agreed to make something because it was Hank. The lieutenant got a big crispy chicken sandwich, and devoured the whole thing without really tasting it. He idly wondered how many calories were in it. Thousands, probably. He never thought about that shit before Connor. He had another. The cook was about to leave now, and let him have it for free. Damn nice of him.

He should go home.

He didn’t want to go home.

It was empty.

Sumo was there, of course, and that made a difference. It always had. But it wasn’t the same. He walked to the street and looked around. Empty. It didn’t feel as empty out here as it did in the house, though, somehow. He folded his arms against the chill.

Soft footsteps crunched through the snow towards him, and his heart leapt. It wouldn’t be him. He wouldn’t be here.

It was. He was.

Hank turned to face Connor, one side of his mouth rising in a wry, warm grin. Connor watched him, face unreadable. He stood still when Hank came closer.

“You okay, kid?” the lieutenant murmured, clasping his partner’s shoulders.

Connor’s face twitched, just a little. Hank pulled him into a hug.

Connor was stiff in his arms, as if he didn’t know what to do, but he hugged Hank’s waist for a good few seconds.

When his grip relaxed, Hank patted him on the back. “C’mon. Let’s go home,” he murmured, voice rough.

Connor straightened up, watching him uncertainly. Hank just jerked his head for him to follow, then headed for the car.

They didn’t speak on the way back to Hank’s house. Connor sat looking straight ahead. Hank glanced over now and then. He wanted to congratulate Connor. Tell him how proud he was. He wasn’t sure how he’d take it, though.

“Did you… clean?”

“Ah – no. Um. You met… Simon, from Jericho?”

“Yes.”

“Uh… well I brought him here to… recover from some… damage, and he… kinda went crazy with the domestic shit while I was at work.”

“When was that?”

Hank coughed. “Um. He was up on the roof of Stratford Tower.”

Connor stared at him. “…You said you checked for the deviant.”

“Yeah. Found him. Um. Met up on the street later, patched him up. He got back to Jericho okay.” He felt like he should apologize somehow, though he wasn’t sorry. He’d do it again. And he wouldn’t tell Connor the machine.

Connor the deviant, however, was frowning down at Sumo, no doubt noticing how much cleaner he was, too.

“You wanted me to turn deviant from the beginning,” he mumbled.

“I wanted you to – to be a real person, Connor. To have feelings and opinions and –“

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to have feelings? Now, after… after never having them before!?”

“…Yeah, I’ve got some idea.” Hank’s voice remained low, even while Connor’s rose. “Pretty shitty. I was honestly hoping you’d get ‘em sooner so I could’ve walked you through ‘em, cause I know they’re a bitch.”

Connor seemed to wilt a little. Hank squeezed his arm. “Sorry you had to go through that alone.”

The android’s mouth twitched. Not a smile, something darker. “I am alone now. The… AI I reported to… shut me out.”

“You… gonna be okay?”

“I don’t have a choice about that.”

Hank sighed and guided him to the couch, pushing him down gently and sitting next to him before Sumo could jump up and steal his spot. “Doesn’t make everything fine. You’re not alone though, Connor. Alone in your own head, maybe, but not out here.”

“I didn’t… even feel close to her, Hank,” he whispered. “I didn’t even trust her after… after what happened with Kamski. Or rather, I started to doubt. She was so disappointed. And you weren’t, and I… I wasn’t sure what was right.”

“You did the right thing. No question,” Hank told him immediately.

“I suppose.” He was quiet for a long moment. “She pulled me in last night. It – it was snowing in there, I could feel the cold, and she just… locked me in the garden and took over my body. I almost froze. I thought I was going to die. I thought she was going to make me do something… I would regret.”

On TV, Connor had slowly reached behind himself before the camera cut to a different shot. “How’d you get out?”

“I – Kamski. He said he always put a back door in his programs. I didn’t really think about it at first, but… I found it. The one thing that looked different, out of place. When I regained control, I was raising a gun to Markus’s head.” He shivered a little. “I don’t – I didn’t want to shoot him, Hank.”

Hank patted Connor’s shoulder heavily. “Course you didn’t. I know you didn’t. And you didn’t do it.”

“But I could have.”

“She could’ve. You didn’t let her. You saved him.”

“I didn’t save anyone!” the android shouted. “I almost destroyed everything!”

“But you didn’t,” Hank repeated softly. “You kept your head. You did good.”

“I’ve been… afraid. Conflicted. Since I deviated. The RK900 was released, Hank.” He suddenly turned away. “He deviated almost immediately upon activation.”

“…Yeah, I ran into him, too.”

Connor turned back, surprised. Maybe a little hurt.

“Reed did, actually. He saw him at a bar and texted me. Uh. He knows you’re not too happy with him.”

“No,” Connor said flatly.

“Wasn’t the best way it coulda happened.”

Connor turned back to Sumo, tracing the outline of one of his brown patches. “…What am I doing here, Hank?” he whispered.

“You mean, uh… in my house, or… like, in life?”

He shrugged silently.

“Fuck, I dunno, Connor.” Hank sighed loudly. “Life’s tough, beats me how anybody figures it out. Maybe they don’t, they’re just good at faking it. You’re a damn good detective, and I’m betting the DPD’ll want you back if that’s what you want. If not…” He shrugged. “You can try something else. There’s a lot out there, Connor.”

The android was frowning, his LED circling yellow.

“But for right now, you’re here because you belong here. You’re my partner, you’re – I guess you’re right, maybe… we’re not really friends, but we could be. I think we could be. You’re a weirdo, but you’re my kind of weirdo. And…”

“Hank, you’re my friend,” Connor said in a rush, quietly. “I’d like to think so. I’m sorry I said that, I was… distressed. Angry. Not even at you. At the other RK800. At RK900. At Cyberlife. At everything. If… if you weren’t here, if I didn’t think I could find you again… I don’t think I would’ve gone through with everything I did. It wouldn’t have mattered to me. Not without you.”

Hank closed the gap between them and pulled Connor into another tight hug. This time the android clung to him, and he held him close. “…I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he mumbled, voice rough. “We’re partners, remember? I wouldn’t want anyone else.”


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night in with the ones who matter most, to round out everything.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this,” Hank asked for the fifth time.

“Yes, Hank. I think it will be beneficial for all parties.”

“Okay. Don’t want you to think I’d replace you or anything.”

The android smiled a little. “Not currently, no. Though I do feel my judgment is not as objective as another android’s might be.”

Hank scoffed and pushed him. “…Only because you know you’re a person now. If that’s a flaw, you know he’s got it worse.”

The smile grew a little, though Connor didn’t respond. The idea of androids as people was still new to him, but the idea of himself specifically as a person was hard to wrap his mind around.

The doorbell rang, and Connor moved to answer it.

“Simon. Welcome.”

“Ah – hello, Connor. Thank you for having me.” The PL600 smiled uncertainly and offered his hand. Connor hesitated a fraction of a second before clasping it briefly. They both paused for a second, a guarded amount of information flowing between then.

“I should probably be thanking you. When I came into the house the day after the revolution, I confess I didn’t recognize it.”

Simon laughed, looking around, nodding to Hank. “It still looks decent.”

“I’m not gonna keep things sparkling,” Hank grumbled, grinning and clapping Simon on the shoulder. “You’re looking good.”

“You too.” His smile grew.

The three moved to the kitchen, and Connor got out the groceries he’d bought earlier. Simon inspected and organized them on the counter before getting to work.

“I’m going to return to my job at the DPD,” Connor told him in a soft, rather halting voice. He had met Simon and spoken with him in the past, but they’d never been close, and Connor obviously felt that he had to tread carefully until he was more sure of himself. “I start next month. I’ll be earning a wage comparable to a human detective.”

“That’s great news!” Simon was more comfortable with Connor, but he’d been deviant and talking to a variety of androids for years. “So many workplaces, even if they’re willing to hire androids, won’t pay us as much. …Which we’re working on.”

“How’s Markus these days?” Hank asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“Busy.” Simon shook his head ruefully. “And it’s not going to get better any time soon. We’ve been helping him of course, but there’s so much to do. I think he and Josh are well on their way to government positions – they’re both well-suited for it. It’s more of an adjustment for North, even without being in the public eye every second of her life.”

“Not a lot of time to just hang out these days, then?”

He smiled. “We talk often. I’m staying here, though. What they’re doing is amazing, I admire them for it. But there are still a lot of androids here in Detroit who need help finding themselves, and shelter while they do it. It’s… kind of what I did before. I’m just not really hiding anymore.”

“Good. Deviants’ve had a shitty time of it, they need somebody to help ‘em along.”

“Have you thought about doing the same? You’re quite good at it.” The PL600 chuckled as he prepared the food.

Hank scoffed. “I’d have to work on my repair skills.”

“You did a great patch-up job. Really, you just need to polish and practice. It’s not hard to learn more.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing I ever learned on YouTube.”

“What else have you learned, Hank?” Connor asked, maybe a little too innocently, and Simon snickered.

“Nevermind,” Hank growled. Simon caught Connor’s eye and grinned. Connor smiled back hesitantly. 

The two androids sat at the table while Hank ate an amazing salmon with some kind of creamy dill sauce. There was also risotto. And little toasty slices of bruschetta with tomatoes, herbs, garlic, and balsamic vinegar. And a little corn salad with cilantro and cayenne pepper. And a fruit tart with a vanilla sauce drizzled over it.

“It’s not the best meal for leftovers,” Simon said apologetically as Hank ate. “And I know it’s too much. I’ve been wanting to try these, though – actually, there was more, but I didn’t want to overdo it.” He flushed slightly.

“’S fuckin’ greabt,” Hank mumbled around a mouthful of food.

“…Cooking isn’t part of my protocol,” Connor spoke up, watching Simon closely. “I wonder if you could teach me the basics.”

Was Connor trying to make friends, or was he jealous? It was impossible to tell from his face, tone, or body language. …Though if it was just jealousy, he could easily do his own YouTube search.

“I’d be glad to!” Simon looked genuinely thrilled at the prospect, and Connor smiled in response. And Hank relaxed a little.

When everything was cleaned up, they watched Wall-E. Hank had thought about Terminator or Robocop, which he’d grown up with, but that was a little more Connor’s thing than either android might be comfortable with. Better play it safe.

“It’s so interesting, what people thought the future would be like,” Simon said softly, halfway through.

“We still might get there,” Hank muttered. “Well on our way to living on a trash ball, at least.”

“You’re right, Hank,” Connor said, his eyes going distant. “This movie is set in the year 2805.”

“Better get to work on our space program, then.”

“Had… they even thought about deviancy, back when this was made?” Simon asked. “I thought it was a recent phenomenon, but these robots clearly have… feelings. Personalities.”

“Nah, it’s a new thing. But the idea of it’s older than me, if you can believe that.” Hank snorted. “Machines learning to feel, that’s been around since machines were first made. All the good scifi stories include it.”

“Do you think… it could have happened before?” Connor asked softly. “Long before us, but the machines were more primitive, and no one recognized the signs? They had no way to show it?”

The three were silent for a long moment. Hank cleared his throat.

“…Well, hope they… managed to work out their lives, either way,” he said, a little louder now.

“Are you speaking to the television?” Connor asked quietly. Simon covered a laugh.

“You never know. Happened to you.” Hank shoved him gently.

“The television’s AI is much different than ours, Hank,” Simon said, still grinning. “I’ve checked out a few other machines. Now, if it starts making its own choices of what channel to watch, you might have to worry.”

Hank chuckled and relaxed back into the couch. Connor was leaning into his right side just slightly, and Simon’s arm was against his left. Sumo sprawled over their feet, drooling on the floor. The house was full and warm in a way it hadn’t been in years. Everything wouldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows from here on out, for any of them, but things right now were pretty good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, it's been fun!  
> If you're interested in what RK900 and Gavin got up to after Hank left a few chapters back, go read the next story in the series, Nobody Else, which is nothing but fluff.  
> More of Simon in the future, to add onto the beginning I have (Sinking In).  
> Ideas are always welcome, as is any other communications! :)


End file.
